


Keep Movin' Through the Dark with You in my Heart

by rivlee



Series: No Dominion [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many different ways of comfort and remembrance. Spoilers through episode six of <i>Vengeance</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Movin' Through the Dark with You in my Heart

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Mention of Character Death. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the Starz television series _Spartacus_. Title from Bruce Springsteen’s _Blood Brothers_. 
> 
> **A/N:** Unbeated ficlet time once again. **ETA** Just to clear things up, this is a finished ficlet that was first worked on in July of 2012. It's a personal headcanon for a canon-based au series. If you don't see them as twins, totally cool and I feel you b/c we're not told that _anywhere_ in the show. I wouldn't take a facebook game as a source of legit canon. :)

Even at night the temple was far from quiet. There was too much to be done and few hours in which to accomplish it. Training, weapons sharpening, cloth sewing, anything that could safely be done under moon and torch light occurred at night. 

Nasir was still on light duties following his training. The healer cautioned him to resume a full-duty schedule at a slow pace. If he trained with the sword during the day, he was to spend the evening hours sharpening arrowheads or darning cloths. Nasir had never spent so long with so little activity. If he was still a slave he would have been sold off or killed by now. Though, if he was still a slave he never would’ve received such a wound. He could not regret the cost for all it had brought him. 

Nasir sought out Mira to see if she needed assistance but was stopped at the sight of Agron. He sat on the wall with Donar and Lydon, taking part in a watch when he should be resting. 

“Spartacus assigned the roster with purpose” Nasir called up to him. 

Donar and Lydon exchanged smiles. Donar nudged Agron. “That is your sign to get down, you stupid fuck.”

“If Nasir called me to bed, I would not hesitate,” Lydon teased.

“He may consider it if certain Germans do not move ass,” Nasir said. 

Agron silently dropped down and leaned his weary body on Nasir’s good side. Nasir took a moment to breath in his familiar scent before nodding a farewell to their friends.

“No insults or threats as you leave us,” Donar called after them.

Agron gave them both a bored look. “You know well I’d part you from your cocks if there was even a whisper of truth to your taunts. And that Nasir would be the one to hand me the knife.”

Lydon scoffed. “And if he is the one to entice us?”

Agron smirked. “Then I must see to his satisfaction.”

The words were spoken with meaning but lacked Agron’s normal heat. He was weighed down by thoughts and Nasir would see them lifted. His mood had been dark for days now and each time Nasir asked, Agron insisted it was of no concern. This, though, was the first night sleep had escaped him. They could not afford to have one of their leaders brought down by restless nights.

They maneuvered through the hall full of sleeping bodies until they reached the corner with their bedrolls. It offered as much seclusion as they could manage with their growing numbers and duties. 

“Will you tell me what robs you of dreams?” Nasir asked once they settled down. 

Agron rested his chin on top of Nasir’s head, fingers working out the knots and tangles of his hair. It was a ritual reserved for the times of rare indulgence. 

“Agron,” he prompted.

Agron released a quiet, shaky breath. “I realized with the passing of the last moon I forgot to mark my brother’s birthday.”

Agron never spoke his brother’s name. Nasir learned it from Mira and the few stories shared by Oenomaus during the moments when he woke. Nasir never asked Agron, he knew and respected the pain of past memories. Some hurts were buried far too deep to dig up. Duro was never forgotten though; it was there at times, when Agron turned to share a comment with the ghost of a man.

“The passage of time feels different now,” Nasir said. He gripped the arm Agron had wrapped around his waist. “Any forgetfulness will be forgiven.”

Agron’s fingers continued to card through Nasir’s hair. He did it with a reverence Nasir had never been the recipient of nor ever seen. 

“My brother, I was older than him.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Agron nodded. “We were twins. Far from exact replicas but breathing the same air of life within minutes of each other. I came first, a place I always stayed. I lauded it over him once or twice in life.”

“Like all older siblings.” Nasir ran his fingers over Agron’s arm, giving the only comfort he could at the moment. 

“He was the stronger at birth. They were certain he would survive over me. Each morn they expected to find me gone from this world, yet I still lived, with him beside me.”

“We can celebrate your birth tomorrow if you wish, for him, for yourself.”

“No,” Agron said. “It is not a day I would celebrate without Duro at my side. I spent over two decades marking that day with him. No longer shall it be anything but remembrance.”

Nasir tilted his neck to meet Agron’s eyes. He spoke not of the tears gathered there and simply cupped his cheek. “That is the first I’ve heard his name from your lips.”

“It is the first time it has passed in anything but prayer,” Agron admitted. “It hurts to force it from my mouth. I want to share his history with you, to let you know all the joy contained within his soul.”

“You will, in time. The grief never lessens, I am told.” And he knew. He had seen more than a few of his own beloved friends fall. “The stories can help with the passing time until you meet again.”

Agron turned his face into Nasir’s hand and pressed a kissed to his palm. Nasir knew it was a sign of gratitude.

“What did his name mean?” he asked. He sought to distract Agron from darker thoughts. 

Agron’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not certain of the exact definition in this tongue, but farmer is probably the closest.”

“Enki,” Nasir said. “The former shit who owned me _allowed_ the ancient gods of my homeland to be spoken of in his house. Enki was the god who shaped the world.”

“Interesting god for a Roman shit to know.”

Nasir laughed. “He was more taken with the priestesses of Ishtar and their worship. Grateful was he to witness their orgies.”

He was rewarded with the quiet laugh he sought. 

“Enki,” Agron repeated.

Nasir nodded. “If you wish to tell me tales of your past, of your brother, and the hurt is too much to say his name, then tell me of Enki and his wanderings in the lands east of the Rhine.”

“Ishtar will not mind,” Agron teased.

Nasir rested his hand against Agron’s shoulder, suddenly feeling all he had done that day. 

“I think she would consider it a proper devotion,” he mumbled, already losing the battle to sleep. 

Agron did not answer but the steady beat of his heart and breaths said enough for now.


End file.
